


Petrichor

by enmayri



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: ADHD Octane but we all knew that already, Age Difference, Begging, Canon Compliant Amputee, Caustic discovers that he may have... feelings, Caustic hates everyone until he doesn't, Chaotic Good Octane, Developing Relationship, Drug Addiction, Drug use/abuse, Eventual Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent turned Enthusiastic Consent, Neutral Evil Caustic, Octane x Nervous Laughter, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Alternating, Possessive Behavior, Sadism, Sexual Content, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmayri/pseuds/enmayri
Summary: In which Caustic doesn't even notice they've gotten a new Legend until he can't stop noticing they've got a new Legend.In which Octane fishes for attention from the WorstPossiblePersonTM and is somehow still shocked when he finds himself in over his head.





	1. We've already met...

**Author's Note:**

> STOP JUDGING MY RAMEN RECIPE

Mistakes were an unacceptable annoyance. Even more so when they were his own.

Bullets showered against the wall a mere few inches from his nose, forcing Caustic back behind cover with a growl of displeasure. A full squad pinned him down from the northern slope, led by that nuisance Bangalore-- probably the only person he'd acknowledge with enough brain to turn his traps against him.

An almost inevitable outcome. The woman was a career soldier, irritatingly observant. How many times had he abandoned her on his own team to go investigate his triggered traps? How foolishly consistent was he that she'd known which perfect areas to trigger, drawing him in like a fly to his own carcass?

Caustic reloaded and checked his inventory, grinding his teeth at the lacking medical supplies. Not nearly enough to tank a few bullets running for it.

Limited options.

An arc star landed in the sand on his left. Alexander glared at it for a moment before throwing himself into movement, diving into the nearest doorway and kicking it closed just as electricity crashed against it. He chucked a trap at the door, heard it clink and hiss as it bounced off the frame and inflated, and let himself a moment of rest.

Limited options indeed.

The building led Caustic in the exact opposite direction he wanted to go. Away from the teammates chattering uselessly on his coms, away from the ring of safety, and away from Alexander's last fleeting chance at survival. And Bangalore stayed on him through it all. No avoiding windows nor alternating floors could keep the professional soldier off his scent. The last door opened up to a hillside of desert, with only the sparse skeleton of a long dead beast for cover. A well-thrown Nox grenade had one of the Randoms screaming, and Caustic made a run for it. He was spared only a few seconds. Bullets pelted the ground, catching in the sand and on the ancient rib cage. Several caught in his side, one scraped his forehead, and Alexander could immediately taste blood on his tongue. He collapsed just before the skull and pulled himself the rest of the way, dropping traps as he went that were promptly shot out.

The single syringe he had did nothing but numb a bit of the pain. Bangalore peeked in through the skull's empty eye with a grin. Alexander chucked the empty syringe at her head.

"Aw, come on now, Nox," she said with a chuckle. "You know how this goes."

Caustic coughed in reply, refusing to deign the woman a conversation.

Bangalore took her time reloading as her team caught up with her. One kept his weapon trained warily on the scientist while the other laid himself out on the ground, panting hard. Caustic dug his heel in the sand and kicked, showering the Random with grit.

"Jesus fuck," the man spat, shaking out he dirt from his clothes as he jumped back up. "Let _me_ kill him."

"My chase, my kill," Bangalore growled, leveling her sights on Caustic's head. "See you back at the compound, Nox."

A lithe form dropped in the middle of the group, Peacekeeper in one hand that blew out the skull of the Random still wiggling sand out of his jumper. Bangalore turned on her heel, and the man saluted her with an empty string of grenades hanging off his finger.

"Hey there, _hermana_."

The explosion quaked the ground so hard Caustic thought he was having a seizure for a moment. It shook the ancient skull from its foundation, forced him to crawl his way out from beneath it through the broken jaw. Debris clouded the air. Caustic tossed traps into the chaos and poured bullets into anything that ran from them. An arc star whistled past his ear, throwing him to the ground with the explosion and charging the air with the smell of electricity. Bangalore rushed him, only to catch a sniper round in the gut and stumble back into a canister. It exhaled poison, and Bangalore started choking. When she looked up, it was into the barrel of a Spitfire.

"See you back at the compound," Caustic said. He pulled the trigger.

There was no time to loot. Painful coughing filled the cloudy air around him, and the ring was closing in fast. Caustic grabbed a syringe, turned, and found a man stumbling from the debris. Caustic met his gaze down iron sights, and they flinched back as though he'd already shot them. 

"O-oi oi oi! Octavio, _amigo_! Octavio!"

Caustic lowered the gun, regarding the man in front of him. Bright brown eyes stared back, still seemingly unsure whether or not the taller man was going to pull the trigger. Freckles spotted his youthful face, and two little silver rings pierced the right side of his nose. His head was cut into a sort of disheveled quif, leaving a wavy mess of black hair atop his head that he ran his hands through, shaking out sand and dirt.

"Octane." Caustic vaguely remembered now. "The new Legend."

"N-new... it's been like a week," Octane said, chuckling nervously. He offered Alexander a med kit, and bounced his metal foot impatiently while the larger man healed. "I don't even wear my game gear around the compound... We ate at the same table this morning..."

Caustic stared at him with a cocked brow. Something told him if he entertained the conversation even once, it would never end. He nodded towards the large spot of blood soaking Octane's hip. "You should heal while you can. Ring's closing in."

"Ah, yeah, nah. Bad drop, no kits, you know? But don't worry about me, _amigo_. Got that youthful regeneration." Octane grinned and pat his own chest with a fist. "So you ah, you really don't remember me?"

Alexander turned away without a response.

Over the coms, their sniper ushered them towards the ring, pinging a spot for them to gather, but she never made it there. There was a brief grunt of pain in their ears, a voice warning them away from the east side of the ring, and then silence. Not long after, someone with impressive aim and an apparent deep hatred for earth showered the sand around them with bullets. Caustic could hear Bloodhound's thick accent in the distance, berating a Random for giving their position away.

"You got your ultimate?" Octane asked. Caustic ducked behind a rock, narrowly avoiding a shot aimed for his head, and checked his unlock percentage. 100%. The little Legend made grabby hands at him. "Gimme gimme gimme! I got a good arm."

"No." He swatted at the hands reaching for it anyway. "I will throw you out there and run while they kill you."

"C'mon _mi amigo_ , I've always wanted to yeet one of those things!"

Caustic glared at him, who grinned back in the same way people did when they didn't believe his threats. It infuriated him so much he reached over and grabbed the man by a strap on his vest, fully prepared to chuck the little man out into the open. Octane was small enough. Probably didn't weigh more than a hundred pounds. A very chuckable weight.

Instead, he pressed the Nox grenade into the runner's awaiting hand, all the while holding his glare on those shining brown eyes. "If you miss, I'll smother you in your sleep."

"I never miss, _compadre._ " Octane stood, arm wrenched back to launch the grenade.

The bullets that shred through the man's chest came from behind them, and Caustic wasn't fast enough to drag him to safety. The runner's body recoiled from the pain, dropping as dead weight when Caustic snatched him by the vest, trying to find an angle that protected them from both parties. Blood ran from Octane's lips as Caustic propped him up against the rock and ignored his groans and pleads for the larger man to leave while he could.

Caustic slunk over to another rock and peeked over the cliff at their side, trying to formulate their best available option in his mind. The third party had come close enough to alert Bloodhound's group, and the two seemed to be more concerned with one another than the ragtag duo bleeding out behind cover. If they could get to the buildings on the other side of the pass, they could probably loot up and come back. Behind him, Octane wheezed.

It would be harder to find loot for two.

For a moment, he entertained the idea. Pros and cons ticked off in his head. His own personal survivability, a big pro. The fact that Octane had a mouth too big for his own good and would probably get him back for it-- a con. Like a hyperactive Mirage, the more he remembered. It was never wise to make direct enemies of the other Legends.

" **Trust in the Allfather!** "

Time's up. Decision made, Caustic turned back to his injured teammate just in time to see Octane kick his jump pad at him. It hit Caustic in the side, shooting him horizontally out across the canyon. He stared at the man as he fell, unsure whether his awe was directed towards Octane's absolute gall or the fact that he could see the last remaining team, Bloodhound's team, collecting on the dying adrenaline junkie. And then the Nox grenade went off, and two kills ticked off in Caustic's counter.

When Bloodhound finally made their way across the pass, Caustic was waiting for them.

 

 

 

He was sore. Even with the advanced medical tech of the Gamemasters combined with his stims, Octane still fucking hurt.

What did make him feel better, even if only a little, was seeing Bloodhound's sour silence when they'd come back to the compound. Mirage was quick to defend the hunter, informing Octavio that their lungs had been wrecked by Caustic's poison and it probably hurt like shit to even try speaking. Octavio hadn't felt bad. Nope, not even a little bit _compadre_. After all, he still had a headache from where Bloodhound had deposited a bullet in his skull.

But the bitterness had cooled faster than his headache had, and Octane ended up whining into the intercom of Bloodhound's door for an hour before they finally relented and allowed the runner to give them an "I killed your team and took first place out from under you with underhanded tactics _lo sientooo_ " cake.

It was cinnamon vanilla creme.

He hopped into the kitchen with what was initially hunger but quickly turned into his brain demanding that he either befriend or terrorize the man standing inside. Caustic leaned against the island counter, head in a book. Alexander Nox. A nervous giggle was already tickling Octavio's throat, but he swallowed it down and approached.

" _Hola_."

Caustic peered over the edge of the spine with the same cold stare he seemed to regard everyone with. Octane met it with the most charming smile he could manage, and pointed towards himself.

"Remember me, _amigo_?" The reply he received was no more than a continued stare, so Octavio wiggled past him towards the pantry and retrieved two packets of ramen noodles. " _Hambriento_? Hungry? I'm making some so I might as well make you some, eh?"

Still, the large man stayed silent. But it wasn't a "no", and definitely wasn't a "fuck off or else I will absolutely experiment on you", so Octavio smiled and retrieved two bowls from the cupboards.

" _Mira, mira_ , I like to make it this way. Hot water, 2 dabs of beef broth. Some worcestershire, soy sauce, lemon pepper and paprika, and two _generoso_ spoonfuls of grey _pouuupooon_."

The book snapped shut at the dramatized accent. For a moment, Caustic simply looked ahead at the wall. Then he seemed to decide something, and finally turned to Octavio with his full attention. The runner grinned wide and continued.

"Mix it up, add the noodles, and drop these bitches on the stove. You're supposed to cook them slow on low-medium so the flavour soaks in, but it takes so loong," Octane complained. He tapped the stove panel and cranked it up as high as it would go. "BIG HEAT-- little time, _sí_?"

"No," Caustic said firmly. He reached over Octane and slid the setting back to medium. "And when I say no, I mean _no_."

Close. It felt like his skin was shifting under itself, prickling with the heat of Caustic's breath on his neck and the weight of the threat. Something told Octavio he should definitely obey this time. Something else coiled in his stomach, encouraging him to turn the heat up once more just to see what would happen. Nervous laughter escaped him and Octavio ducked away for a stirring stick, eager to escape both the overwhelming presence and his own terrible ideas. When he returned to the stove, stirring stick in hand, he'd forgotten what he was doing. Caustic leaned cross-armed against the stove, relaxed in a loose teal shirt and dark pants that were quite possibly pajamas and looked so soft Octavio almost reached out and touched them. Thankfully, his last remaining brain cell screamed at the prospect, and it shook the runner back into reality.

"Now we uhh... cook it."

Caustic cocked a brow at him. "It's cooked."

"It- oh, _mierda_!" Octavio shouted suddenly. "I forgot about eggs and beef!"

There was a certain comfort that came with working at his own speed, and a familiarity with eyes watching him. Somewhat terrifying, having them belong to Caustic. It sent a shiver of fear up his spine every time he turned to the man with a friendly quip, only to realize those sharp golden eyes were trained on him in much the way he'd seen hawks eye mice.

 _Mierda_. Why did he like it so much?

Octavio couldn't count the amount of times he'd tripped over a gas canister or choked to death on one of Caustic's grenades. Couldn't count the amount of times he'd seen other people suffering through it either. The choking on the blood that welled up in their throats and the burning of the lungs, so painful that suffocating felt preferable to breathing. The seizures. Gods, the seizures. Even there in the safety of the compound, Octavio could feel his muscles twitching and tensing as the ghost of the poison coursed through him.

"You're burning the eggs."

"I-I am... _toasting_ them," Octane declared as he forked the burning eggs out of the pan and into the bowls as fast as he possibly could.

A quick exhale left the man beside him, and Octavio swelled up like a balloon with satisfaction. That was an exhale of laughter and no one would ever be able to tell him different.

"So the new Legend can cook," the scientist murmured, accepting the bowl. He stood to leave, and like a loyal puppy, Octavio followed.

" _Sí, sí, sí_ ," he said cheerfully. "I had a lead maid growing up, _Dama_ Kaira, always made me make my own food. I remember hating it as a little kid, but damn if it wasn't useful. She was born on Earth-- some place called Tokyo. Used to talk about it all the time. I was in loooove with that place _amigo_. The lights, the noise! She said they always had the best food there, but _no lo sé._ I always liked the food _she_ made, but-" The door closed behind him, catching Octavio's attention for a moment. He peeked back at it, suddenly vaguely aware that he was in Caustic's room. A small voice in the back of his head reminded the runner that he couldn't get out. "But... but I knew she always uh..." Trapped. Octavio could feel his lungs start to close up. Trapped with nowhere to run. "S-she always... spiced it up for me a little." The bowl wasn't in his hands any longer. Caustic set it on a table at the far end of the room along with his own, and when he came back towards Octavio he seemed much, much larger. "I... like spicy... f-foo-"

The scientist grabbed him by the collar, yanked him right off his feet and nearly pulled his shirt off over his head. Octavio's heart pounded in his throat and he poured out apologies like a madman. Somewhere, he'd gone wrong. At some point his mouth had gotten ahead of his brain again, and now he was fucking dead. _Dead_ dead. Skinned alive maybe. Used in some sort of horrible experiment most definitely. Octane's eyes were already watering, pregaming the tears to come. Even then, his big dumb anxious mouth started spewing giggles instead of words.

" _P-perdón,_ " he begged between his laughter. " _Perdón, perdón, per_ \- hrrrk!"

Caustic deposited him on the bed. For a moment, Octavio just laid there, spun high on his own terror and trembling with it. It lurched into his throat when the larger man wrapped a hang around his metal ankle and pulled Octavio so close their hips were flush, and he could feel _everything_ pressed against him.

"Ahh, _mierda_ , p-please! _Perdón_!"

A big hand caught his jaw, stilled the shaking that chattered his teeth and held him until Octavio dared peek his eyes open and meet the narrowed gold orbs studying him from above. With the other hand, Caustic held up a shining glass card. Caustic's Apex I.D. card. The key to the room. He placed it on the table beside the bed, well within Octane's reach.

The runner stared at it for a while, letting himself a moment to calm the panic that vibrated through every inch of his body. And with a heavy, exhausted sigh, he finally relaxed against the bed. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. There are-" Octavio squirmed, trying to shove, kick, nudge-- whatever he could do to mildly injure, or at least irritate, the larger man. But one leg was held firm against Caustic's chest and the other was pinned beneath the man's haunches. "There are better ways to fucking go about this, _amigo_! Gods!"

"Not nearly as entertaining, however," Caustic defended. He gestured to the key card. Offering escape even as the hard outline of his cock pressed against Octavio's thigh.

Part of him wanted to grab the key card and run. The other, quickly clarifying with the quelling of his panic, was very aware of his own hardness straining painfully against his pants. Octane squirmed again, rubbing against Caustic. It earned him a small growl and a tightening of the grip on his thigh, and suddenly Octavio wondered if he'd ever had any constraints about doing this in the first place. Caustic seemed to share the sentiment, or at least the decision.

It was welcomingly rough. Big hands pulled at his clothes, stripping him of the metal prosthetic that had been resting against Caustic's shoulder and then any clothing in the way. They snaked up Octavio's shirt, pinching and stroking at the any skin they could reach until Octavio was panting and brushing away tears for very different reasons than before.

" _Mierda_ , please," he whispered.

Caustic ran his fingers through Octavio's hair, dragging a quiet sigh out of the little Legend. Then he grabbed a fistful, twisting the strands and stroking the roots, harder and harder for each stuttered, muffled moan Octane let out. Eventually the runner sobbed, nice and breathy, and the tables turned.

It was Octane who tugged at the other's clothes now, yanking articles off and dragging his fingernails down Caustic's freckled chest. At that point, the larger man seemed to have had enough.

"Fffffffffuck," Octavio breathed. Caustic rut down against him as he rummaged through the bedside table, and quickly returned with a bottle that chilled Octavio's skin when he was turned onto his side and wet with it. "Oh, please. Please, please, please."

Fingers pressed into him and immediately took up a rhythm, turning Octane into a blubbering mess. He knew the pain wouldn't last, knew that burning sensation would make way for please, but he still tried to squirm away. Caustic was too big. His fingers were too thick. He was too rough. He was too much this and that and three thousand other things that made Octane's stomach do somersaults even when he didn't want it to. Caustic's fingers dug bruises into the slender hips beneath him, keeping them still as he added another finger.

Octavio bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. "Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ahh! Please..."

Each thrust into him hurt a little less, until Caustic rubbed up against something inside of Octane that made those pretty brown yes roll to the back of his head and a sob rip out from his throat. Hot tears streaked down his face and he choked on his words as that spot was assaulted over and over again, until Octane was writhing under Caustic's weight, begging for mercy as he was forced closer and closer to orgasm.

And then Octavio was empty, left cold and shivering with a dick so hard and unsatisfied that it hurt. When hands touched him again, they burned. Octavio's free leg was pulled over Caustic's hip, and a thick spear eased into the runner's hole. The contact was intoxicating hot. It left his skin wanting. He reached his arm back and raked his fingernails down Caustic's thigh, leaving red welts in their wake.

The reaction was immediate. The hand that had been caressing his leg clamped around Octavio's neck, and another hand pulled their hips flush. Pain spread through Octane's guts and he whimpered, cursing himself for his impatience. Caustic readjusted above him, pressing the angle deeper and flooding the body under him with pleasure.

"Ahhh! _Mierda,_ " he cursed. Caustic groaned against him, exhaling a breath that sent shivers prickling across Octavio's skin. He could feel the tension in the man's grip as he pulled out, and Octavio sobbed before he was even pierced again. "Mercy! M-mercy, Alexa-ander, please..."

A hand pressed into Octane's scalp, scratched and massaged through his hair until he was pressing up against the body above him like he was in heat, wanton and moaning into the pillows. It seemed to satisfy Caustic, who began a slow, steady pace to drag more of the sweet sounds from the younger man's throat. Octavio gave them willingly.

"Oh, gods, that's good. Ahh... _porra_ , ahh!"

Stars danced in Octavio's eyes, dazing him. It was like his head was full of cotton soaked in the best drug he'd ever had. Pure pleasure pulsed through his veins. Caustic sped up, finding a brutal rhythm to pound into the smaller man, and groaned out a delicious noise that made Octane's stomach flood with warmth.

"I-I'm ah, ahh, fuck!" Octane reached out, scrabbling at the walls and bed frame, anything to stabilize himself from the onslaught. "I'm going to- ah! C-cum, _mierda_!"

Caustic instantly slowed, and Octavio wanted to put something through the wall. Panting into the tear-stained sheets, weak as a kitten in the larger man's hands, Octane wanted to throw a genuine fit. Cry, sob, he didn't care-- his pride could take a back seat to the painful warmth radiating in his groin.

A moan escaped him when Caustic shifted him onto his side, hooking an elbow under Octavio's stump and easily sinking back inside. He set an agonizingly calm pace, slowly putting pressure on the runner's hips to find the best angle. Octavio hated how good it was, hated how deliciously nauseated with pleasure it made him. With a shaking breath, he reached out and pressed against the man's chest, forcing Caustic to still.

The man looked ready to strangle him for the pause. Octavio couldn't help but giggle miserably at that, but he hardened his own glare on Caustic. "If you do that again, _amigo_... I swear I'll get up and leave."

"Oh? Threatening me?" A deep chuckle reverberated in the man's chest, and Octavio melted in his grip like putty, instantly pacified.

Caustic snapped his hips forward, ripping a moan out of the lithe form under him. Each thrust was harsh now-- Caustic's sadistic obedience forcing Octavio towards his goal. The shadow of a hand hovered over his erection, close enough to brush it but not nearly enough for the friction Octane so desperately craved. He squirmed and moaned under the torture.

"P-please," was all he had left in him to say.

A cruel laugh came from the torturer. Finally that hand gripped Octavio and pumped him in tune with every thrust. Pleasure shattered through him like electricity. It felt so good it hurt, like firecrackers going off in his brain, and he screwed his eyes shut to enjoy the show.

It didn't take long for the intensity to rise, coiling in Octavio's stomach until he thought he was going to lose his mind. He held onto Caustic's thick wrist for stability, felt the man's grip tighten on his hip and his pace stutter. Caustic leaned into him, pressed Octane into the bed as he pounded away, and groaned so silkily in the little Legend's ear that he came right then and there.

"Fuck! Yes, yes, ahhhh, fuuck," Octavio sobbed, trembling and tensing in the older man's hands as Caustic speared him through the orgasm, harder and harder until he finally pulled out with a rough groan.

The man's weight disappeared from the bed. Octane panted and wiped the tears from his cheeks, slowly coming down from the high. He sat up with a whimper. It felt like his spine had been broken and rearranged. A luckily placed box of tissues allowed him to clean up, and Octavio shrugged his boxers on and remounted his leg in its socket.

Caustic's room was... quaint. Filled with bookshelves that were in turn filled with books, with one entire wall covered in scientific posters diagramming the insides of various insects, animals, and people. A long desk sat in front of it, cluttered with open books and what looked like a metric shit ton of sciencey... things. Part of him wanted to go investigate. There were tubes and jars sitting on the desk filled with colorful liquids that seemed to be _demanding_ he sniff them. Even as he decided immediately that it was a terrible idea, Octavio's eyes glanced around for witnesses.

There were none to be found.

Octavio threw himself back on the bed, searching for anything to take his mind off the mystery liquids. He flapped uselessly in much the way a bird does and nudged a blanked that felt absolutely _absurdly_ soft. Gasping, he rolled and reached out for it. White fluff met his fingers, lush and silken against his cheek when he buried his face in it. Behind him, he could hear Caustic return to the room.

"This blanket is so soft!" he shouted. He shook it at the man, who stared back calmly with that golden gaze. In his hands were there rest of Octavio's clothes.

They stared at one another for a moment, and then Caustic headed for the door.

" _E-espera_! Oi, oi! Hey!" Octane leaped from the bed and gave chase, turning the corner just in time to see Caustic toss the bundle out. The door snapped shut behind him the moment he dashed out into the hall. He sighed and picked up his clothes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, _amigo_."

At least the hall was empty. Octavio leaned against the wall for support as he pulled his pants on, and blinked at the teal shirt with confusion.

This was Caustic's shirt.

He looked at the door for a moment and turned away with a whistle. 

This was  _Octavio_ _'s_ shirt.


	2. A Bad Man

It had started out innocently enough. Wraith lost an arm wrestling match to Anita so fast no one even had time to bet, and the dark-skinned woman suggested that Wraith pick on someone her own size. Instantly she turned to Octane. Gibraltar found them struggling against each other with white-knuckled grips on the coffee table and tears in the corners of their eyes, spouting out insults and jokes in hopes of tripping the other up. Mirage and Bloodhound watched, betting against one another in some strange fond mutual spite, and Mirage lost when Octavio somehow managed to win. Laughing, Gibraltar told them about the sport of sumo, and Ajay recalled a water game by the name of Chicken.

What happened next was essentially inevitable.

The couches were pulled away, coffee table moved, and in the middle of the main room squaring off was Wraith on Pathfinder's shoulders and Octavio atop Makoa. This could only end well.

"How you doing up there, brother?"

Octavio pat Gibraltar's chest and cackled. "Ready to win,  _hermano_!"

"You wish," Wraith said, shoving a fist into her palm and cracking her knuckles across it. Underneath her, Pathfinder bounced from foot to foot and cheered everyone on like he didn't have a side.

When Caustic came in, he choked on his coffee. Wraith was picking herself up off the floor, screaming for another round, and Pathfinder found himself on the other side of a tipped couch. Makoa had Octane in his arms, spinning and cheering with victory. Meanwhile, Elliot sobbed at all his money being raked into Anita's lap.

"Never bet against the big man in a show of force, ladies," she said, smirking.

Bloodhound nodded from their spot of relaxation on the couch. "She's right,  _vinur munn_. You are too impulsive."

"Rematch!" Mirage shouted. "Rematch! I want to fight them!" He turned to Bloodhound with a charming smile. "My number 2?"

"Oh Allfather, I  _just_ said you're too impulsive!"

Mirage waved them off and pointed at Caustic. "My number 2! Or... my number 1? I-I'll be honest man I don't think I can put you on my shoulders."

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! Come on, Nox!" Makoa bounced Octavio in his arms and held the Legend above his head like a trophy, or a particularly unimpressive deadlift. "Big man to big man, with two little men on our shoulders."

Octavio looked down, and Caustic was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite place. Golden eyes seared into his brown, and when Makoa dropped him down into a bridal hold, Caustic was practically glaring. The scientist turned away and said nothing, merely gesturing to his empty coffee cup as he disappeared into the kitchen. Octavio grinned after the man, already thinking of ways to stir the pot.

"Well, fuck," Mirage said.

"Better listen to them,  _compadre_." Makoa lifted Octavio back up onto his great shoulders and the adrenaline junkie jeered at Mirage from the height. "You wouldn't last a minute up here anyhow."

Elliot shed his jacket and took up a boxer's stance. "Oooh, you done it now. I'm gonna fuck you up, Speed Racer. Who's my number 2? Who's my number 2?"

"I am!" called Wraith. She grabbed the illusionist by the shirt collar, dragging him down to her height, and shook him. "I crave blood, Elliot. Do you hear me? BLOOD."

"You actually scare me more than anyone else here and I just want you to know that," he replied.

With Wraith on Mirage's shoulders and Octavio grinning down at her from Makoa's, the four circled one another. The tension in the air was palpable, and tingled like electricity across all their skins when Gibraltar finally charged. Octane reached out, ready to grapple, but only caught air as Wraith slipped into the void. The stumble almost sent him flying off, but Gibraltar readjusted quickly and pulled Octane back upright. Even Mirage looked surprised, though his face quickly turned into one of mischievousness when Wraith solidified back on top of him and lunged, using Octane's momentum against him to shove the little Legend off.

It was by pure chance that he nearly fell on top of Anita, and by pure luck that the soldier felt obliged to catch him. For a moment Octavio lay suspended in the air, upper half held by Bangalore and metal calves still caught over Makoa's shoulders in his grip.

"Magic is cheating!" Gibraltar said gruffly. "No powers, no abilities!"

"What? Bullshit!" Mirage crowed back. "What about Pathfinder? He's full metal. Doesn't that count as an advantage?"

"Pathfinder lost immediately," Ajay pointed out.

"Do you lose when they fall off, or when they hit the ground?" Bloodhound wondered aloud.

That shut everyone up. Gibraltar peeked down at Octavio, who peeked over at Wraith, who stared intently at Anita. Mirage looked confused, and then concerned.

"Um, I feel like this is a good stoppin-"

Bangalore shoved Octane back up onto the fortress just as Wraith launched herself forward, kicking the half-materialized shield out of Makoa's hands and using him as a step ladder to try and reach Octavio. He nearly fell off just trying to dodge her, but managed to stay upright by a tight grip on Makoa's jacket. Now he was practically hanging off a shoulder, dodging grabs and swipes sent by Wraith, who hung off the other side of their shared mountain. Makoa's arm reached up behind Octavio, securing him against the man, and the junkie took the chance to climb.

The first to reach the summit was Octane. He grinned down at Wraith, spinning an empty stim on his fingertip, and kicked the woman off spartan-style with every ounce of his drug-fueled energy. Elliot fell forward trying to catch her, and they both ended up crashing to the ground.

Blood pounded in Octavio's ears and he shook with the thrill, hooting and laughing in Gibraltar's arms as the big man did a victory dance. In friendly celebration, the group decided that food was in order.

Mirage brought out his personal stash of spicy chips. Bloodhound made a delicious meat dip. Gibraltar and Anita simultaneously decided on tacos, and Octavio helped Ajay bake cookies, which really just meant that she was kept busy trying to keep him from eating all of the uncooked dough. While she had taken a moment to pout, Wraith was quickly interested in the process and taste-tested everything alongside Pathfinder, who pretended to do the same.

One person was missing, however. Octavio kept a side eye trained on the coffee maker, watching it brew a full pot. Once it was done he practically dashed for it. He poured a full cup and sped down the hall, aiming for Caustic's room.

The first ring on the intercom was ignored, as well as were the second through fourth. Octavio tapped his foot impatiently, watching the screen and waiting for any acknowledgement of his presence to pop up. Eventually a command went through accepting voice. Octavio stabbed the option so fast he broke his fingernail.

"Hey, hey, hey,  _amigo_! We're watching a movie and I brought you a cup of coffee and we have food and I made cookies they're oatmeal raisin because Ajay is an uncontrollable demon woman but I dumped an absolute metric ton of  _açúcar_ in it while she wasn't looking so hopefully they're not too bad." Octavio inhaled loudly and held his breath, hoping the man hadn't immediately muted him.

The door slid open. Octavio grinned. Caustic peered at the coffee with disdain. 

"You left it straight black."

"I-...  _mierda_ , I sure as shit did," Octane said, staring into the cup in surprise. "How uh, how  _do_ you like it?"

There was a pause as the man seemed to deliberate the consequences of answering. "Two leveled spoons."

"Leveled?"

"No excess," Caustic answered, reaching for the cup.

Octane yanked it away, spilling some out across the back of his hand. Pain flared through his skin for a moment, but it didn't burn near as much as the golden glare leveled on him. Octavio backed away, grinning. "Two leveled sugars," he repeated. "Don't move."

That glare stayed on him the entire way down the hall. Even when Octavio's form disappeared around the corner and then popped back out just to make sure the man hadn't gone back into his room never to be seen again, those gold eyes were still watching. The murderous glint in them was unmistakable. Octane couldn't get enough of it.

Caustic waited. Octavio was thrilled to find him still in the doorway as he speed-walked back down the hall with the coffee cup in his hands, sweetened with exactly two leveled spoons of sugar. When he handed it over, Octavio expected the man to disappear behind his door-- locked, muted, and on every Do Not Disturb option available.

Instead, the man's gaze softened considerably. To the point that Octavio's brain short circuited at the sight, and he shifted from foot to foot with a nervous giggle. Eventually, Caustic took a sip and hummed. When he looked back at the runner, his expression had returned to its normal casual coldness. It was as though some deep part of him had slipped through the cracks for a moment, some part of him that wasn't so isolated, and perhaps didn't want to be.

Entranced, Octavio wanted to reach out for it, to grab onto that little hidden moment and coax it back out into the open. He wanted to see it again, wanted to experience that secret part of the man before him. Would Caustic show him, if he sought it out? Would he allow himself to be known in such a way? So many doors suddenly lay before Octavio, and there was no better time to try and open one.

But his hand twitched uselessly at his side, and Octane cleared his throat. "M-movie? It's an old superhero flick. Iron Man."

Caustic grunted, seemingly unimpressed, but nodded anyways. "I'll come."

 

 

 

The realization hit Alexander in much the same way a train would a deaf man.

Ignoring Octane had come easy for the first few weeks. The newest Legend made no real effort to attain Caustic's attention outside of his normal hijinks and mischief that ran the two into one another, whether literally or not. Octane would wink and saunter away with a grin too wide for his own good, and Caustic would pretend it didn't effect him.

But then there was that childish game in the main room. Gibraltar held the runner in his arms, touching Octavio's skin with all his gentle giantness, and Caustic realized that he did  _not_ like that. He hid in the kitchen, away from the little junkie that Caustic had at some point subconsciously claimed as  _his_ , and entertained himself with fleeting strategies of murdering Gibraltar.

Eventually Caustic managed to remind himself that he didn't care. He didn't care about Octavio, he didn't care about Gibraltar, and he didn't care whether they touched or fucked or-

Mug shrapnel fell from his hands, and Alexander decided that was enough for the day. He cleaned his mess and headed for bed.

It only took 15 minutes for the intercom to beep. Caustic debated on ignoring it entirely. He sat in front of his desk, pen in hand, jotting pointless notes about an already extensively studied organism at the other end of his microscope. After the third or forth time looking through the lens and not even registering what he was seeing, Alexander gave up. All his focus was on the intercom, and it beeped at him again. He peeked over at his I.D. card, watched the glass pulse orange every time the connected panel outside his room was disturbed. Indicators to accept the ping, tell them to leave a message, or ignore them outright popped up on the card. Caustic reached for the ignore option, and accepted the ping.

Octane's voice instantly blabbered through the speaker, making close to no sense at all as he emptied his lungs into the receiver. Caustic head the words "cookies" and "demon woman", and cocked a brow.

When he opened the door and the first cup of coffee was offered to him, Caustic knew he should have gone to bed when he had the chance. Or at least pretended as though he had. Then Octane sped off and returned, this time with coffee steaming with the scent of perfect sugar to bitter ratio.

Alexander felt something inside of him crack.

In that moment he wanted to thank Octavio in any way he could. Thoughts of pressing his lips to the man's neck swarmed his mind, almost pressing him into action from his craving for the sounds of pleasure that would satisfy them both. He wanted to run his hands through that fluffy black hair, massage him in just the way the little Legend liked it. He wanted to pull Octavio in his room and make him forget about everything else for a while, make him forget about any _one_ else. He wanted to kiss every freckle and every bruise, and mark his own upon that cream skin. Alexander... wanted to sleep. He wanted to turn around and lie down in his bed, and he wanted Octavio to follow, to crawl under the covers, pressed up against his back or better yet in his arms, and just lay there with him. Was it too much to ask for something so simple?

Then Caustic took a sip, and it somehow tasted so much better than it ever had before. Too much better.

When he looked back at Octavio, all he could see what everything Caustic was not. Bright-eyed and hopeful and friendly with clean hands and an incredible willingness to trust. Even as he gazed upon it all, appreciated it while he could, Caustic felt his shell regrow and bury that little crack in his wall deeper and further away than it ever had been.

Caustic was a bad man, and Octane was naive to think otherwise. Naive to think that anything could come from this, and naive to want something to. Somewhat keen, in his defense, as Octane seemed to notice something change in the man, and he quickly turned the topic to a movie.

Coffee in hand, Caustic turned back into his room and promised to come. Then he waited. Several hours and then a few hours more just to ensure the movie would be over. He came out into the main room and found them all asleep, piled on the couches together with the movie screen in front of them cycling through the menu animation. Octane was in the middle of them, leaning dead asleep against Gibraltar's chest with his legs laid out in Lifeline's lap. 

Again, Caustic felt anger bite into him. He sat on an empty couch for a bit, stuck in his own mind as the studied the Legends, and concluded that his earlier intuitions were correct. 

Entertaining Octane's affection would be a mistake. There had to be a clear line-- something much more defined than the one Caustic had tried to make by throwing the man out into the hall half-naked. Something to put the junkie in his place as an occasional bedmate, if anything at all. Humming, Alexander took to the kitchen after the remaining coffee, hoping to clarify.

Of all the people to enter as he was pouring himself a cup, it was Octane. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, the lithe Legend smiled at Caustic and reached for a cup of his own. Caustic had half a mind to stop him, somewhat concerned for the structural integrity of the compound if exposed to a double dose of Octane. As the man stood in front of him, piling sugar and milk into his cup, Caustic recalled the need to put Octane in his place and immediately made some changes to the demand. Not just  _an_ occasional bedmate. _H_ _is_ occasional bedmate. No one elses. It couldn't be tolerated. 

He walked forward until he was pinning Octane to the counter. The junkie jumped and stilled, sending satisfaction pulsing through Caustic's veins. He leaned down, breathed across Octane's neck, and watched him shiver. One hand came up to run fingers through Octane's hair, and the other pulled at the collar of his shirt, allowing Caustic more room to ghost his lips across the smooth skin.

A moan escaped Octane, and he sank back against Caustic, completely malleable in the older man's hands. So easy, so willing. 

The hand in the junkie's hair clenched and pulled back, dragging Octane's head with it, and Caustic circled a hand around the exposed throat. A finger pressed against the man's jugular, keeping smug count on the quickening pace. Caustic exhaled across the shell of Octane's ear, and felt those metal legs go weak.

"Have you had fun today? Hmm?"

The junkie nodded, murmuring something in his pretty foreign tongue. Caustic trailed his fingertips across Octane's jaw. He could feel Octane tensing against the roughness, relaxing against the gentle, and slowly winding up with the ministrations.

"Enjoying those hands on you?" Caustic whispered to the shivering neck below his teeth. Quiet agreement sighed from Octane's lips, and the scientist seized him up, turned him around, and sat him on the counter. Octane's eyes were wide, pupil exploded with pleasure and fear as he looked up at Caustic, who leaned down closer. "Mine? Or someone elses?"

" _Q-que_?"

"Mine," Caustic hissed, sliding Octane's hips closer until they pressed against his own, "or  _his_?"

A giggle came from Octane then, one of genuine mirth, and Caustic tried to convince himself that it irritated him rather than warmed him.

"Are you jealous,  _amigo_?" Octane's face turned softer, more mischeivous, and he ran his hands up his own chest. " _Inveja_? Is this _envy_ coming from Alexand-"

Caustic snatched him by the jaw roughly, and then pressed gentle fingertips to Octane's lips. "I don't share," he stated. 

It seemed to shake the jest right out of Octane, who frowned. "I'm not-"

"What's mine is mine. No one else's."

Something dark flashed across Octane's face. Confusion, perhaps. A realization of what Caustic was implying. He tested it briefly, pressing close to Octane and brushing their lips together. The little junkie reacted as he expected-- wanton and willing, breathing out a moan and leaning forward to connect. After a decisive moment, in which Caustic subconsciously knew he had to deny the advance to stay in control, he met their lips in the middle. 

Octavio tasted like sugar, and kissed like he was hungry. It was genuinely difficult to not reciprocate it in the same way, to have to hold Octane's jaw to keep it from getting as deep as he wanted, to enforce that level of control before it spiraled away from him and left Caustic stranded.

Teeth bit into Caustic's bottom lip-- gently at first, teasing. And then they bit harder, bit through flesh, and Caustic recoiled with a grunt. Fresh, visceral pain radiated from his face, and his hand came away bloody from the wound.

Octane was watching him calmly when Caustic glared his way, and the those amber brown orbs cut him straight through. Blood stained his lips, and in that moment Caustic saw him for what he truly was-- a wild animal lashing out at the irresponsible owner that didn't know how to treat him.

"Go fuck yourself," Octane whispered. He dropped from the counter and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not seen: Elliot "I think this is a good stopping point" Witt whining about being called "little" for the next three days.


End file.
